


can’t choose what stays [or what fades away]

by 4beit



Category: Killjoys (TV)
Genre: Gen, set post 1x07 - kiss kiss bye bye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22516279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4beit/pseuds/4beit
Summary: “drink.” pree says, putting down a shot glass of something amber coloured and syrupy in front of you “it’ll help.”“not sure anything will help,” you say moments before downing the liquor in one grimacing swallow “that was terrible.” you say, feeling the shot burning down your throat and setting fire to your stomach.“it’s brax’ian absinthe.” pree says, placing a glass bottle in front of you “figure after the day you’ve had, you need the hard stuff.”
Relationships: Dutch | Yalena Yardeen & Pree
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	can’t choose what stays [or what fades away]

you walk into the royale numb from some combination of the cold, the fight with d’avin and johnny nearly dying. at this late hour most of the rabble has filtered away to whatever hidey-holes they call home. only a recognisable few still sit in the darkened corners, murmuring over strong drinks and the low pulsating throbs of whatever music pree has chosen. the man himself is back behind the bar and nothing in his face registers surprise at your presence “sit.” he says nodding you towards a stool.

you collapse into it, feeling the sharp explosion of pain across your ribs as you do so and despite your best attempts to mask your pain it must show in the way your breath catches in your chest.

“drink.” pree says, putting down a shot glass of something amber coloured and syrupy in front of you “it’ll help.”

“not sure anything will help,” you say moments before downing the liquor in one grimacing swallow “that was terrible.” you say, feeling the shot burning down your throat and setting fire to your stomach.

“it’s brax’ian absinthe.” pree says, placing a glass bottle in front of you “figure after the day you’ve had, you need the hard stuff.”

he’s not wrong.

you watch him pour a second shot, and then one for himself. you cheers more from habit than anything else, and toss the shot back more prepared for the feeling of fire “thank you,” you say, not quite looking at pree and instead focusing on a particularly interesting patch of brickwork “for,” you trail off again, vision swimming as tears threaten to fall, again “you know.” is all you can muster in the end, hoping that –

“i can have him jumped.” pree offers, a simmering anger threading through his words “if it’ll help.”

there’s no question that pree is serious.

“kind of you,” you say, the fire in your stomach morphing into something more pleasant “but i think, i think d’avin is beating himself up enough. and i,” you remember picking up the cargo box and slamming it into d’avins face; you remember dragging him to the seat and restraining him.

you remember staggering into a dark corner of the ship and curling around yourself.

you remember the adrenaline leaving you too on edge to cry, despite the pain.

“well,” you say, voice hollow, hands shaking “i’m not dead.” the truth of that feels less like a victory than you would like. the fire in your stomach has settled and a pleasant warmth is spreading through you. the sensation doesn’t numb the pain entirely, but it starts to dampen its strength.

pree says nothing for long seconds and then you hear the soft slide of metal across wood. you look down to see a single key on a ring glinting in the light “up past the sexers,” pree says “fourth floor. i’ll be up in a moment.”

you swallow hard, looking from the key and up at him “pree,” you say “you don’t have to-“

he cuts you off, pushing the key across the bar “i have a perfectly functional guest bed.” pree says, meeting your gaze “and,” he continues, lowering his voice “there are some conversations better had in privacy.” he pauses again “if you want.”

it’s an offer, giving a choice.

on the one hand, you could go back to the ship. no doubt d’avin is still there, hollow eyed and punishing himself. you could sit in your room, on the edge of your bed and replay the moment you were kicked in the back and slammed into a wall. every step you would take on that ship would have a memory - memories of calling out for johnny, of watching the man you trusted try and beat you to death. hells, the bruising around your neck is only just coming through and you can still feel the pressure of d’avin’s forearm against your throat. it was then, that one moment, where you knew he would kill you if given a chance. you understood in that moment that for you, the fight was life or death.

you won’t sleep easy on your ship.

not tonight, not for a long time you suspect.

you look up at pree, his eyes soft

_it’s your choice_ they tell you, and after a moment, you relent. with one hand you reach for the offered key, and with the other you guide your aching body off the stool.

* * *

the place pree calls home suits him. it’s bigger than most places in old town, but when money is buying pree no doubt makes a profit. otherwise, you know he runs on bartering and arrangements much like what you and johnny have with him; which is still good business plan. what you appreciate most though, is how quiet it is. silence, even relative silence where people aren’t screaming or plotting or crying, is difficult to find in old town. where you had expected noise from the sexers to filter up through the vents, or the ever-present hum of old town’s night life to seep through the windows, there is soft silence broken only by a dripping tap. it’s a comfort, but you’re caught in memories that simmer at the back of your mind, waiting for their moment.

the ship had been quiet like this.

you had come back to the bedroom expecting maybe round two, maybe just drinks and company. instead you had received a violent kick to the back. for a half a second, you were sure it couldn’t be d’avin – that someone else had boarded the ship. such a fantasy shattered the second you scrambled towards the bed and to your feet. in front of you, standing there, cold fury in his eyes, had been d’avin. in that instant you didn’t have time to process the shock of it all. you only had time to get on the defensive, to protect yourself as the man you thought you knew launched another attack.

you think you’re beginning to process it all now. now that johnny is stable and d’avin isn’t at risk of turning again. back on the ship it had been easy to assure d’avin that you knew when not under the mind control of some fucked up doctor, he would never do anything to hurt you or johnny. it had been what d’avin needed to hear, and it wasn’t exactly a lie. part of you knows that it’s true, that in his own mind, d’avin would never turn on you. except it was still d’avin standing there, still d’avin whose hand had come around your throat again and again.

blinking quickly, you force yourself back to the present moment - you see a kitchen table and walk gingerly towards it. getting down into a chair is a process that takes both time and swallowing the muted whimpers that rise in your throat. as you sit, hands shaking from the effort, you let out a soft gasp and try to regulate the pain. you focus on breathing, on sitting as still as you can. as if being frozen in place would somehow stop the pain radiating from wherever. which, in itself is the problem you’re sure. if the pain wasn’t so all encompassing, you’d be able to handle it.

d’avin is hardly the first ambush you’ve had the misfortune to be caught in. he is, however, the first ambush to leave you feeling this battered. even your closest of calls collecting a warrant with johnny left you feeling better than this. granted, it had been two against one (ish), and johnny was there to help take the hits.

tonight,

last night,

the fight against d’avin,

it had come from nowhere and what advantages you had in your training and tenacity were almost no match d’avin’s robotic willpower, or his size. amidst the silence, memories swim back to the surface – d’avin’s foot connecting with your back and sending you stumbling into the ship wall, two glasses shattering on the floor in the process. then you splayed out on the ship floor with d’avin looming over you, one hand wrapped around your throat. there had been no mercy in his eyes, only he pure intention to harm and kill. your first chance to let your mind catch up had come in the darkness of the cargo bay, you curled into the wheel well and barely daring to breathe as d’avin approached. or worse, his words spoken clear,

_“well, i need to hurt you.”_

no matter how often you tell yourself that it wasn’t his fault, that it wasn’t d’avin in control it doesn’t change how on edge you’re left as a result. it doesn’t change the fact that you were _scared_. it doesn’t change the fact that when the door opens and a slice of light filters into the space you’re levelling your gun at the door without hesitation.

“easy,” pree says, unsurprised at your volatility.

you exhale, putting the gun down on the table “sorry,” you murmur, voice thick “i’m just-“ you can’t pick a single word for how you feel,

exhausted comes to mind. yet in the same breath you’re wired, body practically trembling.

pree walks across the space and slips into a chair next to you “you’ve had one hell of a day.” he says, then after a moment of studying you “did you let any of the doctors on that ship check you over?”

you cast your mind back, trying to remember.

being on the ship is a blur, you don’t remember getting there. the only memories you do have are of watching johnny in surgery, eyes transfixed on the lasers saving his life. you remember the waiting too, of standing in that too white room with pawter and pree inside and d’avin lurking. it had felt like a lifetime, standing, pacing, watching.

you hadn’t felt the pain then. the fear of losing johnny had consumed you more than any injury ever could. 

at long last, you drag yourself from the memories “no,” you say “johnny needed help more than me. d’avin too.” which is true enough, d’avin may have been in kill mode, but you had still smashed him in the face with a box.

“well,” pree says “they’re not here now, and you’ve got a burn on your cheek that needs looking at.”

the only shot d’avin managed to get off. you remember feeling the heat roll across your cheek as you dove out of the way “he shot at me.” you say “when he ambushed me. he, he kicked me in the back and then fired at me.”

your hand curls around the sharp corner of the table.

next to you, pree’s eyes darken. the look is reminisce of how way he reacted when you first found him, watching johnny have surgery. he would have jumped d’avin there and then if not for your soft murmur of

_“don’t.”_

now though, he raises a hand slowly “may i?” he asks, nodding towards the throbbing burn on your cheek.

you nod, tilting your head towards him. pree is gentle, fingers resting lightly on the line of your jaw “it’s not bad.” he says after a moment of assessment “needs some cleaning though.”

“i can do it.” you say but pree shoots you a look as he stands.

“you’re a guest,” he says.

“i-“ you start to argue, sudden anger flaring up “i’m not helpless, pree. i can look after myself.” as soon as you snap, regret bubbles in your stomach “sorry.” you say.

“dutch,” pree says his voice soft as somehow he remains collected and unfazed “if i know anything about you, it is that you are more than capable of looking after yourself. but,” he continues “what happened today wasn’t just some warrant putting up a fight, this was a betrayal.” you open your mouth to protest, but pree raises a hand “and i know that what d’av did was not entirely his fault, but right now that’s not what has you wired. it was still him, his body, that went after you. nearly killed you. and today you fought for your life against a friend, friend with benefits.” you grimace, clearly johnny had told him what he heard “and maybe being alone is what you need tonight, in which case, i will leave you to the first aid and the guest bed. however, if there’s a chance that what you need is not that, then i am here.”

and with that, he moves through the door and into a closet of sorts.

you exhale, leaning forward onto your bruised forearms and closing your eyes. you can hear pree moving things around in his closet and half a glance shows you an extensive collection of,

you look away.

the last thing you want to think about was who wears the gimp suit between pree and his playmates. instead, you let your mind drift back to pree’s words. you could have spent the night alone on your ship with every lock on the door and a gun in your hand. you could have disappeared into any hole in the wall in old town. except, you came to the royale. you came to pree and his apartment and maybe that means that letting him be here,

letting him help you,

could be a different version of what you need.

you lean back in the chair, finding that you’re as mentally and physically exhausted as you are still on edge. you hear pree closing a closet door, hear him walking back across the room.

“i snapped,” you say “i’m sorry.”

“you don’t have to apologise,” pree says, setting a large red box on the tabletop “you’re fine.”

“it means a lot that you brought me here.”

“it means a lot to me that you’re alive.” pree says, flipping open the latches and removing a tray of supplies for closing wounds old school “and johnny too.”

“if we died you’ve had to find someone else to end your bar fights.” you deadpan, the first attempt at humour you’ve had since d’avin launched his attack.

“that kind is a dime a dozen,” pree says, removing a selection of ointments “but you and johnny? you two are special.” your heart warms and your feel the soft touch of pree’s fingers along your cheek as he moves hair out of the way “and d’avins not half bad, when he’s all of his own mind,” pree says “but he’ll need some time to get back into my good books.”

pree’s not the only one who’s going to need some time with that, you realise.

**Author's Note:**

> i was rec'ed this show by a friend and i am head over heels into it. i mean damn. 
> 
> you can catch me over on tumblr at 4beit - feel free to come shout at me.


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